Lost in the dark
by Varbos
Summary: A young swordsman is dragged into another world, will he survive?
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: greetings, Varbos here. I would like to say a few things. This is a self-insert fan fiction, I myself am training in Historical European Martial Arts (HEMA). Thus far I have a few months training in the germen longsword and understand a few basic principles of the Italian dagger. A full disclaimer: DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES attempt to replicate the techniques described below without training and professional guidance. I mean it guys, my group uses swords made of nylon and wears more protection than professional American football players. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.**_

_**Also a term I can't think of how to put in my story with a good explanation**_

_**True/False edges**_

_**If you hold the sword then the edge pointed the same direction as your knuckle is the true edge, the other is the false edge. These are also referred to as long and short edges.**_

A blinding light, I could see nothing around me but white. I had no Idea how I got there, or where I was before. I knew who I was, I was known to many as Varbos.

"When you link the flames, you shall return home." Said a voice that came from everywhere at once. It was a deep soft voice.

The light receded to a point above and in front of me, forming a rectangle, not in line with me. Everything else was darkness. Then the blinding radiance of the light dimed, but did not disappear. Then my eyes adjusted to the darkness around me. I was in a cell, in horrible disrepair. There were some bags and a bucket on the wall opposite me. To my left was a pile of hay likely meant to be a bed. The iron barred door was completely covered in rust. There was an iron barred window on the wall above the sacks and bucket, though it did not look outside.

I panicked, not just because I was in a cell, but because I recognized the cell. The place where you start dark souls. I was locked in a cell at the end of the hallway in an asylum for the undead in the world of the most terrifying video game.

"This isn't Happening, this isn't happening. I'm dreaming, yah that's it I'm dreaming. Well if I am dreaming then there is no point in staying here." I say to myself.

I sit in the same corner as the chosen undead and begin to speak from memory.

"_In the age of ancients the world was yet unformed, shrouded by a dense fog, a land of grey crags, archtrees and everlasting dragons._

_But then there was fire, and with fire came disparity. Heat, and cold, life, and death, and of course light and dark. And from the dark they came and found the souls of lords within the flame. Nito, the first of the dead, the Witch of Izalith and her daughters of chaos, Gwen, lord of sunlight and his faithful knights, and the Furtive Pygmy, so easily forgotten. _

_And with the strength of lords the challenged the dragons. Gwen's lightning bolts pealed apart their stone scales, the witches weaved great firestorms, Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease, and Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own. And so the dragons were no more._

_Thus began the age of fire, but one day the flames will fade and only dark will remain. Even now there are but embers, and amongst the living are seen, carriers of the accursed dark sign. For yes indeed, the dark sign brands the undead._

_And in this land, the undead are corralled and lead to the north, to await the end of the world. This is your fate."_

And right after I finish, a corpse falls in front of me. I look up to see Oscar of Astora in gleaming armor. He simply nods and is off.

I get up and grab the key from the hollows waist. I place the key in the lock of the iron door and with the effort of fighting years of rust turn the key and fighting more rust to push the door open. I slip out into the hallway and move past the weeping hollows. I reach the circular chamber at the end and climb the rusted ladder. I arrive in the open air courtyard with a massive door at the other end and in the center of the grass covered lawn was a pile bones with a warped sword sticking in them.

I reach out and feel the hilt of the sword, just to run my fingers across the pommel. The instant my hand touches the deformed weapon the bones came alight. It is no special power, the bonfire just seems to react to the touch. I feel a warm, soothing sensation wash over me.

With an effort of will I pull myself from the fire and walk towards the towering door before me. I place both hand on it and push with all my might. I get the door just open enough to get through, which is not much as I am a thin teenager with above average metabolic rates.

As soon as I am through I run without looking back. I hear the sound of an obese demon with a massive hammer hitting the stone ground. And redouble me speed, its colossal footsteps spurring me onward. I sprint through the door way and an iron door slams down into place.

I am in a hallway leading to a square room with a lowered pool of water about an inch and a half deep and a bonfire in front of the hallway. I move towards the bonfire, shaking from the after effects of adrenaline. I touch the bonfire and feel refreshed with boundless energy. Then I proceed to a doorway on my left and the other side of the room.

It leads to a long-ish hallway with a turn off into a broken cell, and at the end is a hollowed figure with a bow standing over a corpse. I leap to the side as I see him release an arrow. Once the projectile passes me I run out the door and leap inside the cell half way up the hall. I look at a corpse just inside the cell, he has an arrow in his shoulder, piercing the blood vessel there. He likely just managed to get in here and dropped dead. In his hands is clutched a battered blue and white shield.

I grab the shield and hold it in front of me as I charge out of the cell towards the archer. An arrow rebounds off the shield, now I have closed with the archer who turns and runs down a hallway to the left. I am obviously quite intimidating, a boy in his teens standing 5' 2" (about 157.5 cm for you Europeans out there.) weighing about 100lbs (45kg) in blue jeans, a grey tee shirt, and tennis shoes with brown hair and eyes.

I stop, grab a longsword that had fallen from the corpses, fumble for a bit putting the shield on my back. Then chase after the archer. My legs are bent at 45 degree angles and my blade is out behind me on my with the true edge forward. This guard is called nebenhut.

As the hollow stops to turn and face me I send my blade up and rotate my body with the step and strike. My sword slices into him, I feel it slice through the end of a rib as I come through his side. Eventually coming to a stop in his sternum. I raise my hilt and the tip goes down, the sword in him kept cutting.

I stand over my kill, panting. Then I feel an energy entering me. His soul, or the fragments of it. The feeling cannot be described.

I walk to the end of the hall till it widened into a curved corridor. I walk past a broken stair case. The first few feet are shattered. However it is not broken smoothly, leaving plenty of hand holds. I set down my weapons and approach the staircase. I then grab the highest handhold I can reach, pull up, then grab the edge of the stairs and climb up. First my hands, then forearms, I put my upper body above them, now my feet, and I am up. I pull a rusted, bloodstained ring off a deformed corpse. It appeared to have fallen prey to whatever event destroyed the stairs. I easily hop down to the ground, landing on my feet.

I grab my gear and continue down the corridor. I pass a small room with no entrance where I knew my savior lay dying. In front of the room is two stair cases. One on the left going up, the other going down. I went right and opened another iron barred door to the courtyard where I had been minutes before.

After a short rest inside the healing aura of the bonfire I turn back and go back up the stairs. As I venture up the flight of stairs going up I feel as if I was forgetting something. At the last second I saw what it was, a bolder heading straight for me. I couldn't avoid it.

Bones broke, lounges collapsed, organs flattened. It was more pain than I ever experienced in my life. Then I died. This wasn't a dream, it hurt too much to be a dream.

I awoke at the bonfire in the court yard. Everything I had was still in tacked. Everything but my mind. I was having difficulty focusing. Then my mind turned back to my life on Earth. My family, the two friends in my life who are like family. One a boy I have known for ten years, the other a girl I've known for seven. I had to get back to them, I had a goal to focus my fragmented mind on.

I went back up the stairs. Into the previously un-enterable room, which was no longer the case thanks to the bolder made hole in the wall. Lying upon a pile of rubble under a hole in the ceiling was my savior, Oscar of Astora.

"Oh, you, you're no hollow eh"

"Despite my appearance, no I'm not" I say, it is taking an effort to form words into coherent sentences.

"Thank goodness. I'm done for I'm afraid. I'll die soon, then loss my sanity. I wish to ask something of you. You and I we are both undead, hear me out will you."

"Continue"

"Regrettably I have failed in my mission. But perhaps you could keep the torch lit. There is an old saying in my family 'Thou who art undead art chosen. In thine exodus from the undead asylum maketh pilgrimage to the land of ancient lords. When thou ringth the bell of awakening the fate of the undead thou shalt know.' And now you know, and I can die with hope in my heart. Oh and take this" his hand had been digging in a pouch at his side. And his estus flask fell out and bounced of the rubble.

I now know why he didn't heal himself. He didn't have the strength to lift it to his mouth to drink from. That must have been torcher, to have the one thing that could save you, but not be able to use it.

"An estus flask, an undead favorite. Oh, and this." He pulls out a key, which makes the same tumble as the flask.

I pick up the key and hold out the flask to him. I see his shoulder move as he tried to lift his arm. "Now I must bear farewell. I would hate to harm you after death, so go now, and thank you."

I nod and walk out the hole. "Farewell, you shall be remembered."

I go up the now detraped staircase. The hollow at the top runs at me. I simple extend my arms my arms and watch him impale himself on my sword. Then I do the same maneuver as before with raising my arms.

I unlock the iron barred door behind him and walk through. I enter the open air balcony, well I'm not sure that was what it had been originally but it was now. Three hollows run at me as soon as I turn a corner. I jump back behind the ruined doorway and enter a fighting stance.

This time I enter the guard pflug. My legs were bent the same way with my left foot forward. The sword was held next to my pelvis with the point at about the height of my attacker's face. I was ready when the first one came around the corner.

I thrust for center mass and connect thanks to hours of practice. (Landing a thrust is harder than you think, eventually you can get good enough to aim for a target the size of an eyeball. I am not near that point yet.) Taking a step forward I turn my wrist and pull up on the handle, pulling the blade out of the corpse and simultaneously striking a downward diagonal strike against my next attacker. As he fell I turn my weapon in the now dead body causing me to be in nebenhut. I preform a similar true edge strike as I did against the first hollow I faced, killing the third attacker. An arrow pierced my side as I turn with the step in the attack.

I fall and direct myself towards the doorway as cover, dropping my sword in the process. I pull the estus flask from my back pocket where it was stowed and grab the arrow. Then I count to three in my head and pull, then immediately take a swig, the searing pain of the arrow is replaced by the warmth of the estus.

I peek around the corner and an arrow flies by my head causing me to duck. But I had just enough time to take in the scene. My longsword was a yard away, my foe 4 yards away. I had but one chance, to run and hope it worked.

Charging out I grab my weapon from where it lay before standing up fully. The hollow drew and fire but their shot went wide and I struck with a zornhaw. Which despite its name and inclusion in the meisterhaw (or master stroke) is really quite simple. A diagonal cut similar to the swing of a baseball bat, but without the wind up. My foe fell before me and I approach the fog gate.

I place my hand to it. The tendrils of fog felt like well, fog, a cool damp mist. With a shaky exhaled breath I walk forward and am greeted by the view of the boss room from 15 yards up. I look down and realize I have one option, jump.

And so I did. Fortunately for me the ugly face of a demon shortened my decent to 5 yards with a squishy landing on its eyes. I hop down its back using every bone and flap of skin to slow my fall, eventually landing on my feet. The demon raised its hammer and swung down. I run between its legs slashing at its left ankle, right where the Achilles should be. It collapses under the force of its own attack. I run up and climb onto its back near its neck. Then I proceed to stab at the base of the skull, leaning all my weight on the sword.

I absorb its soul, which was far more powerful than that of the hollows I have slain thus far. I grab a foot and a half key at the things belt. I place it in the door below the ledge from which I had leaped and turn. Then I open the door similarly to the first.

I walk to the edge of the cliff by a massive crow's nest. Once again I speak from memory. "Only in the ancient legends it is stated, that one day an undead shall leave the asylum in pilgrimage. To the land of ancient lords." At this point I am swooped up by a giant crow before I knew what was happening. I see Firelink below after about ten minutes of flying. I then finish the statement "Lordran."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to write this. I have been really busy with school.**

**Also, shout out to 'guest' for the comment, since you don't have an account I can't thank you via PM so I'll do it here.**

Now for the part I didn't think about, not impaling myself when I hit the ground. Had I not had a sword in my hand it wouldn't be a problem. I have experience landing on my feet from climbing trees and counters to get to the top shelf in the cabinet. I have to think, fast, faster than the now rising ground.

Unfortunately I don't think that fast, but it is not as bad a situation as I was thinking. My muscle memory kicks in and gets my feet underneath me. My legs bend and my arms move out to stabilize me, fingers open.

A sharp pain in my foot tells me where my sword landed.

I fall to the ground yelping in pain. As I reach for the estus flask in my back pocket I hear intense laughter from the other side of the circle of ruins. I drink from the flask and my wound closes, the sword having cut the rest of the way through and exited my foot when I fell.

As I get up the Crestfallen Warrior's laughter has eased up enough for him to speak a few gasping words. "That was… absolutely hilarious. Hahahahahaha and I suppose you are going to be the next attempted hero. Hahahaha."

"Getting dropped by oversized crows isn't exactly my specialty." I retort.

At this point his laughter has all but dissipated, though a massive grin was still covering his face. "I suppose that is a fair point. I am assuming you are here for the 'fate of the undead' correct?"

"That is true" it is taking an effort of will to stay calm and talk. I have three forces pulling at my undead nature. The bonfire and its warmth, I can sense its aura from this distance. The humanity within the corpse behind me, which I knew would be hanging half out of a well. And the tiny bit still residing within Crestfallen himself.

His voice snaps me back to the world where these inner struggles remain unseen. "Then I have some advice, if you want to avoid death then stay right here, just pull up a seat. Any random piece of ground or hunk of rubble will do. If you wish to continue your mad journey then you should know that there are actually two Bells of Awakening. One in the church tower of the Undead Parish, the other through the swamp of Blighttown, just below our feet. If you manage to ring them both something is supposed to happen. No one knows what, but that probably won't stop you."

"No, it won't." I say then turn walk over to the corpse in the well. I had to follow one of the urges acting on my hollowed mind, and I would prefer not to kill the first person I come across. My hollowed mind easily overcome by instinct I touch the corpse, and three black sprites materialize in my hand.

I crush one in my right hand after moving the other two to my left hand. I feel an energy flow through me like when I absorb a soul, but different. The power of the dark, the power of humanity. It feels as if I filled a small portion of a gap that had been there ever since I died to that bolder without me noticing.

I pocket the other two. Then sit by the fire. And again driven by instinct I find the dark power within me and collect it in my palm. And a small black sprite appeared within it. I hold it out to the flame and it licks at the humanity. I feel energy wash over me, my mind clears of the fog that had been covering my thoughts. I felt less like killing Crestfallen. I could still feel the energy coursing through him, but did not have the driving desire for it I did a second ago.

"Well, see you, I'm going to take a look around the shrine"

"Just don't cause too much ruckus. I like this place nice and quiet"

"I won't, least ways I ain't planning on it"

I already know who all is there, just the mute Firekeeper and former Way of White maiden Anastacia of Astora. Petrus of Thorolund, the cowardly and/or traitorous cleric knight. But if I were to make slip about them without having met them that could raise some suspicion. So I walk up the steps to the ruined building near the Undead Parish shortcut elevator.

Standing there was a man in armor made of metal plates stitched on a fabric coat. he had messy blond hair, a mace in his right hand, a shield in his left. The shield has a four checker squares of red and blue cut off by its gold-looking metallic edge and center design. I say gold looking as I sincerely doubt it is actual gold. Price aside gold is heavy and soft, not something you would want on any equipment for actual use.

"Hello" I call

"Hello there, I believe we are not acquainted. I am Petrus of Thorolund, have business with us?"

"I am called Varbos, and who would be 'us'? I see only one."

"I wait here for my companions, M'lady and her escort of young knights. She is young but she is burdened with the weight of an undead mission." He explained.

"What would such a mission entail, if I may ask?" Again I don't want to make a slip.

"Though you seem a fine enough young warrior, I am regrettably not able to share such information with those outside the church"

I collect a portion of the souls I hold within myself into my hand once they materialize I shift them from one to the other. "Would a donation to the church be sufficient to show the depth of my faith?"

He holds out his hand into the glowing white mass and they absorb into him. "M'lady and her noble knights are on a mission to the depths of the catacombs to retrieve the ancient rite of kindling. The art of offering humanity to the bonfires through which the gods will one day grant us magnificent powers."

_Like the opportunity to throw yourselves into a fire and burn for their power? _I think to myself.

"Well I have a mission of my own, I'll get going."

"Come again, when you return I may be willing to teach you miracles."

_Unfortunately I have faith in a different god. His most certainly exist, but I know their true nature. Just don't want to make a slip about that, no easy way to explain heresy away._

I walk down the ruined steps and across the shrine to a set of spiraling stairs, giving Crestfallen a small wave as I pass. He returns it absentmindedly. I go down the stairs to a small balcony with a cage dug into the side of the cliff made by the rise up the stairs. It had no door, just a hole in the cliff with metal bars. Inside is a woman with straw colored hair in dingy robes with a bloodstain across the skirt.

"Hello" I say knowing what my answer would be. All she did was raise her head. What else could she do? After all, her tongue had been cut out for heresy.

"Can you speak?" her head shook.

"Ok, is there anything I can do for you" I ask, simply trying to be polite to a crippled captive. Another head shake.

"Alright, I'll be off" I say and head back up the stairs.

"I see you've met the Firekeeper, the poor lass mute and bound to this forsaken place. Her tongue was likely cut of for saying some gods name in vain. If only something could be done to help her."

"It can't, to my knowledge you can't repair a severed tongue. Unless she is undead and can come back it might reform, I'm not sure though. Either way, I'd best be off on my journey. I've delayed enough I'd say."

"I'll see you, if you ever come back."

With that I turned to the cliff rising at one end of the shrine and began my journey.


End file.
